Darryl Smith sometimes questions his fathering ability—and understandably so. He fathered a child as a teen-ager, becoming the first father he ever knew. "I don't understand fatherhood," says Darryl. "I never had a father in my own life, and I'm wired to go out and do my own thing. But I know that is not of God, so I have to be intentional about it."

That attitude is paying off. Today Darryl's third child, 11-year-old Elliot, is picking up his father's compassion for inner-city kids who don't know Jesus. Elliot admires "Smack," one of Darryl's students, not because of the teenager's athletic prowess or social status, but because of Smack's bold witness for Jesus. When Darryl heard this, tears welled in his eyes.

Passionate and intentional describe Darryl—from his relationships with his wife and children to his ministry with Student Venture (Campus Crusade for Christ's high-school ministry).

Though he may seem to be randomly hanging out with the students of Howard High School in Chattanooga, Tenn., a clear purpose drives him: give them hope for a better life through faith in Jesus Christ.

As Darryl walks into the Chattanooga offices of Student Venture, he steps under a white ceiling, passes white walls, white furniture, white dry-erase boards and the staff—all white, except for Darryl. A former drug dealer and high-school football standout, Darryl, 35, became the first African-American man to join Student Venture since its inception in 1967.

Darryl and his wife, Gwen, were drawn to student ministry after attending a Student Venture "Something's Happening" conference. This is really white, thought Darryl. Where are all the black kids?

Gwen asked God why nothing like this existed for the inner-city kids. Because no one is going to them, she sensed God telling her. After the speaker gave an invitation and hundreds of kids raised hands indicating they had trusted Christ, Gwen wondered aloud, "Is there going to be a heaven just full of white kids?"

The question gnawed at the couple until they concluded that God wanted them to reach out to the inner-city kids of Chattanooga through Student Venture. After 14 months of raising financial support, they reported to Howard School of Academics and Technology in the fall of 1998.

"When Darryl first came to me about Student Venture," says Edna Varner, the tough-minded principal of Howard High, "the only thing he asked was, 'How can I help?' Not many people do that." She calls Darryl a much-needed role model for kids having few to choose from.

Darryl and Gwen take that role seriously, deliberately modeling a healthy family to the 900 students at Howard. With their children Ashley, 14, Elliot and 1-year-old Uriah in tow, they attend school events together, knowing that they may be the only intact family many students ever see.

Ready, Set, Go | "Darryl is always ready to tell the truth," says student Kevin "Smack" Stone. Whether in a church setting, or in the classroom, Darryl is always ready with a message. Darryl tells students, "No matter what you do, we will always extend God's love and forgiveness."

"Darryl spends as much time at Howard as some school employees do," says school resource officer John Carter. As Darryl treks through the halls or lunchrooms, joking and high-fiving with the students, he becomes ever more visible and recognizable. His raw, personal and transparent talks in classrooms model truth as he feeds the kids from the coarse trough of his life experiences.

After school, Darryl leads Bible studies in which he gently, and sometimes not so gently, motivates and encourages young men and women to abandon themselves to Jesus and obey God's Word. "I'm your friend," Darryl tells his students, "but I'm also the adult. I'm not going to let you push me over just to keep you coming back."

Twice a month, Student Venture meetings emphasize God's love and acceptance by bringing together suburban and inner-city kids, both black and white, in what Darryl calls "biblical unity."

"A few years ago I never would have believed that I could get this close to someone of a different color," says Smack, whose given name is Kevin Stone. "Everything was just black and white." And although differences are still apparent and some hurdles may never be cleared, the kids do come together and grow in their faith—and in their hope for the future.

"Darryl is cool," says Shunn Barnes, a junior and linebacker on Howard's football team. "God sent him here to help us. Without him I'd have already dropped out."

But Darryl does not always feel like a role model. After the frenzy of the fray, when it is just Darryl and his thoughts, old ways still beckon to an easier life—a life without the ache of public ministry.

When Darryl told others in the black Christian community about his calling to Campus Crusade for Christ, they discouraged him, calling it a "white" organization. "They just didn't understand," says Jack Noonan, Darryl's friend and co-director of Student Venture in Chattanooga.

That doesn't make it any easier for Darryl. "Sometimes I'm tempted to go sell drugs," he admits. "It's a lot easier."

In It Together | "Darryl is married to a class act," says Eleanor Powell, a Student Venture volunteer, referring to Gwen (above). "He's brilliant, but she's classy." Darryl and Gwen are candid, though, about past failings, while exhibiting a strong marriage—thus illustrating God's power and love to their community. "Darryl is open about his trials. He turned them into a positive," syas student Kevin Stone.

Darryl has not always resisted that temptation. In 1984, after a year in the army, he married Gwen and moved her to Fort Hood, Texas. About the time their second child, Elliot, was conceived, Gwen committed her life to Christ. "I wanted Darryl to know Jesus, too," says Gwen, "but he was doing his thing." What Gwen did not know was that Darryl's "thing" involved drugs.

Two weeks after Elliot's birth, Darryl called, telling Gwen he wanted out of the marriage, and he didn't come home. They divorced soon afterward.

Gwen was not surprised to hear of Darryl's arrest, in 1990, with a half-kilo of cocaine and a semi-automatic weapon in the car. Life was hard for Gwen, working part time, attending college, raising two kids without support. "I was praying that God would kill him," Gwen says. "I knew if he was dead we would get Social Security money."

"In prison," Darryl says, "I went to chapel to con God into getting me out so I could sell drugs." But God, in His providence, opened Darryl's eyes in a Georgia prison cell, and the prisoner fell to his knees and received salvation.

Darryl immediately called Gwen and told her of his salvation and a new desire to remarry. "If you're a Christian," Gwen told him, "I'll see you in heaven, but I don't want to see you before then." Fearing another con, Gwen pulled away.

But God softened Gwen's heart with each call and in 1992, soon after Darryl's early release, they remarried. Gwen insisted on using the anniversary of their original wedding date—August 28, 1984.

Three years later, Darryl and Gwen attended the Something's Happening conference, where God showed them the need for inner-city high-school ministry.

Today, as they follow God's call to help teenagers in the city, Darryl and Gwen pioneer strategies that they hope will be used in similar situations nationwide. As they've given progressively more leadership to students, student leaders have emerged. But it takes consistence and perseverance, for powerful forces pull at the lives of inner-city teens.

Shunn Barnes, for example, had dreams of college and of life as big as the gold cross suspended from his neck. But a friend rocked all those dreams when she told him she was pregnant and identified him as the father. Shunn questioned whether he could continue in school, or whether God would still accept him.

"I asked Darryl if he still loved me," Shunn said sheepishly. "I was surprised by his response. It was like a father." After reading the Bible with Darryl and praying, Shunn knows that both Darryl and God still love him and want him to succeed.

"They don't give up on children," says Rosina Heywood, who directs Howard's guidance counselors. "They give students who have very little support, strong support. Student Venture's impact is so great, it makes me wonder why others don't do what they do."

One who does help, Eleanor Powell, stands out at Howard, with her neatly done hair, green pantsuit with matching scarf—and white skin. She describes herself as one of "three old white ladies" volunteering with Student Venture on Howard's virtually all-black campus.

In 1969, Eleanor began praying for someone to come to the kids at Howard with God's love. "God answered that prayer then; we just didn't know it."

God answered Eleanor's prayer with a 4-year-old boy from a single-parent home in the Chattanooga projects. Almost 30 years later, that now-grown boy and his wife, Gwen, walked into Howard with a message of hope through Jesus Christ.

"This school used to have a reputation for problems," says Edna Varner, the principal, "but now we have a reputation for turning around. The most important thing we've done is to get the kids to believe in themselves and have a hope for the future."

Or as Smack puts it, "I haven't seen a Christian in Student Venture yet whose life hasn't changed."